Monday, 31 August 2009

The Art Of A Re-Sit

What could be more self deprecating to life than watching You, Me And Dupree? Sitting a re-sit. What is worse than sitting a re-sit? Sitting two re-sits. What is worse than sitting two re-sits? Sitting three re-sits. Luckily however, the latter is not going to concern me because I'm not an idiot-hole. Yet two is pretty substantial and as I am here blogging about it, in any attempt to avoid an exam on wednesday, then the cycle continues. The irony is that learning about the brain and the functions of the brain gives me the odd complication that I want a pump action shotgun to blow my own out of my scalp, or at the very least catch swine flu so I can get a sympathetic pass. Consequences are too dire to think about so I'll just think about something else ... cookies?

By the way, Tom Scott And Josh is back on the air soon so don't forget to check that out too.

Saturday, 4 July 2009

Go Suck On A Sponge And Buy Kane And Lynch

I don’t really get other people’s opinions. People have been underrating Heath Ledger’s quite astounding portrayal as the Joker in The Dark Knight. What? They haven’t and he’s won 29 fucking awards for it. Ok never mind then. Well what about Slumdog Millionaire; that relatively unknown family film about war and poverty and Indians, which deserved at least some recognition at the Quebec Film Festival? What? That was noticed and won the fucking best film of 2009 and 8 Oscars to co-inside. Well I guess that’s that then. Well surely people should be praising Kane And Lynch: Dead Men, one of the classic original titles to be released on the Playstation475 and the YBox? NO!!! Well I guess that’s the way the fucking world works where those who truly deserves praise don’t get such recognition unlike Anwar from Skins so I guess that’s my point about Kane and Lynch; underrated, undervalued and forgotten about just like that middle child who’s older brother is Call Of Duty and who’s younger brother is Wii Sports.

The game prizes itself on being a so-called Hollywood blockbuster and it almost as if the story developer is a Micheal Bay wanna-be. My god. I mean whenever the opening cutscene starts with “Dear Jenny” in a gruff, overemphasized voice then I know we’re in for a bad-ass game and gladly I am not disappointed. The story is compelling, the graphics are super slippery squeaky clean and one can slowly learn to master the controls just like a man learns to master the remote control whenever the Eastenders theme comes on the telebox. Whilst dying in most games is a fucking pain in the arse just like getting a knitted sweatshirt from your grandparents despite you being 30 years old, having a well paid job and affording Armani clothing, Kane And Lynch condones drug use and I say thank fuck. They took a page out of Pulp Fictions book and gives you a shot of adrenaline whenever you pass out from too many bullets to the temple, although half the time the AI stabs you in the crotch which I’ll admit isn’t the best thought through plan but when needs must it’ll do I suppose. Being able to control your AI team is an excellent feature and extremely satisfying to send them to their deaths whenever you’re bored of their ugly, pixilated faces.

The multiplayer is where this game truly excels and NO I’M NOT REFERRING TO SPREADSHEETS! You and some fellow retards (sorry I mean gamers) act as a team of mercenaries who try to score lots of lovely cash that your character would probably end up spending on drugs or guns or priceless Chinese pottery for their mail-order bride whilst trying to remain generally breathing. Acting as a traitor allows you to get lots more Yen but also puts you at the risk of being shot in every orifice by every man, woman or child within a 2 mile radius. If you die as a mercenary you can come back as the enemy and kill your mates but then again you just become another meaningless henchmen you usually end up on the receiving end of a katana to the vertebrae and the only threat you can give people is “Go suck on a sponge!” Nevertheless, the multiplayer does add several hours of gameplay and replay value to the game, especially if you’re achievement happy or get some sort of sick pleasure out of general death.

Maybe I’m biased. Maybe because I’ve completed the story mode on morphine or scored over $100,000,000 in multiplayer that I recommend this game but it is generally well received by the majority of gamers and the fact that they plan to make a film out of it starring Mickey Rourke only adds to the credibility. Then again I am fucking awesome at it.

AVO – Strawberry

Monday, 20 April 2009

Procrastination Is Similar To Robin And Gordon Brown

It's fucking typical really. I'm a student with far too much free time on his hands despite the fact that it's so ridiculously easy to go out get stoned, drunk or shot at by a chav for saying that his belt was a bit fucking loose. Yet here I am tying to pass the time with another incoherent rant rather than doing something worth a shit like reading a book or discovering the cure for necrophilia. So the basis for this next "blog" is to pretty much show how procrastination (or as I should call it FARTING because they're both equally pointless and plus procrastination is too longer a word to write over and over and over and over again) is like the homoerotic sidekick to the student lifestyle in the same way that Robin is to Batman except without the camp tights, unless you're into that sort of thing in which case you CAN play dress up on a monday night in the privacy of your own bedroom.

You can hear thousands of shit stories about what people do when they are bored. The majority of them usual revolve around some bollocks daydream that they had where they're riding on the back of unicorn whilst using a light saber to dispose of unnecessary orcs. In fact, typing the phrase "random procrastination stories" into google produces 174,000 responses all of which want to make my vital organs implode. Nevertheless there are some good ones include someone drawing an empty bag of crisps but the odds of someone coming up with something worthwhile is about as likely as cars running on potatoes. Even as proof, I myself have several weeks of work to catch up on but here I am trying to avoid it in the same way that single attractive women seem to avoid ME! BY ALL MEANS NECESSESARY.

What other sort of crap do people come up with in order to avoid everything that matters in their lives, just like men do in relationships? Doodling seems to be an obvious answer although the term doodling seems to imply that someone’s had a crap related accident in their under-fucking-pants and most of them look like a 3 year old has thrown up some jigsaw pieces along with several ounces of their own puke. I’ve even heard some ridiculous myths that doodle’s can turn into “modern art” which makes sense because they’re both FUCKING WORTHLESS and make just a bigger impact on society like Gordon Brown which is NONE! Seriously the next time I want to see a piece of paper covered in drivel I’ll just ask J.K Rowling to write another fucking novel so she can milk a magical wizard until blood comes out of his udders!

Personally though whilst I should be learning about cognition and brain activity and blah fucking blah I’ve spent the last three days teaching myself how to juggle which as it turns out is quite a useful skill if you want to get laid although not AS useful in a fucking club. Procrastination is just something that exists in our lives that fucking annoys us just like low salt content salt and Russell Crowe films yet students are happy with it. We accept it just like we HAVE to accept Michael Jackson despite his numerous kiddy issues. For legal reasons Michael Jackson has no issues that affect him, his fans, his family or his fucking fairground the self-indulged moon-walking twa …      

Friday, 17 April 2009

Fight Club - With A Harry Potter Referance

There are 8 rules in Fight Club but I reckon there should only be one - "DON'T HAVE A FIGHT CLUB". There are no financial, physical, mental, social or hair related benefits from it and that should be the moral of this 18 rated Issac fable. 

A cult film is that for a reason. It has a small, almost retarded, fan base all of whom seem to believe that the film redefines the genre its placed in, but with Fight Club you just don't know whether to build its own diamond encrusted podium or stuff in that cupboard with your fondue set and old action figures of the Power Rangers. Having an Aniston reject like Brad Pitt star in a cult film makes about as much sense as a portion of chips being made out of processed Oreos and an Italian vinaigrette, yet for some reason it works just like a monkey would in space.

Brad stars as an alter ego who convinces our narrator to commit terrorism and treat other men as unmasked gimps. He plays the part so authentically that he could well be employed as Abu Hamza's right hand man *no pun intended*. Edward Norton plays our unnamed narrator. He doesn't have a name because anyone that depressing from the get go and who willingly decides to fake testicular cancer doesn't FUCKING DESERVE ONE. He also gets to nail Harry Potter villain Bellatrix Lestrange. I'm sure the actress has a real name, unlike the narrator, but i'm just going with it so humor me here. The plot revolves around the existence of an underground fight club, so clearly no imagination was used when naming the film. The members of the club slowly learn to treat Norton and Pitt as God's, in a similar fashion that Frank Sinatra was once seen as the supreme ruler of our grandparents. Soon it leads to Project Mayhem where they cause ASBO like behavior including knocking over traffic cones, shouting at unwanted gypsies ... oh and the destruction of 10 credit card companies. Nevertheless I don't want to ruin the plot for anyone but Brad Pitt DOESN'T EXIST. Which begs the question. Who the fuck has Angelina Jolie been having all these "special" kids with? Vince Vaughn? 

Even with the extreme amount of violence involved in Fight Club, I can't help but feel that there is something missing. With about 72 other men acting like zombies, we feel it should be necessary for someone to take a fucking shotgun and blow someone's fucking head clean off. The only incidence of this is when Bob is shot in the head by a copper but he has huge man tits so it's rather unsatisfying. Even when Norton shoots himself in the mouth and fucking survives, it's more realistic to watch a teenager shave for the first time and hence spew blood all over the bathroom floor. 

Overall though Fight Club is good, not great, but good and I can't help but feel that Brad could well challenge Bruce Willis when it comes to the battle of the ghosts / real people / voices in someones head but hey, thats a film for another day.              

Extremely Valid Opinion (that everyone should fucking take on board) Blackberry

The Secrets About My Bedroom Radiator

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